The Kids Aren't Alright
by romeparistokyos
Summary: Caroline is tied down by an adulterous husband and demanding career. And then there's the issue of her estranged family, as well. So when it all blows up in her face, she abandons her comfortable New York life to play best man for her twin brother Stefan. It's not easy reopening old wounds while she's trying to heal new ones, but the bride's brother Klaus is happy to help her try.
1. One: The End of the Affair

It's seven in the morning when Caroline walks into her apartment building. Her hair is pulled back from her face with worn out elastic band that is bound to snap any moment, and her blazer feels all too hot for the warm May weather.

She doesn't look up from her iPhone, deciding her morning emails too important to ignore. Besides, she figures anyone with a rational mind is already at work, or in bed, where she should have been. Of course, she did not come home last night, and it feels a lot like a walk of shame had she not ditched her husband for a magazine cover. It's not just any magazine cover she rationalizes. The future of her up and coming fashion journal rests on this one hit or miss.

Warm coffee cup in hand and keys in the other, she decides to stop by the mailbox instead of making a beeline for the elevators like she initially intended to. Caroline figures if she doesn't get around to it, the bills will just pile up. Tyler is much too absent minded to actually tend to such details. Come to think of it, he's much too absent minded to be much help when she needs it to.

Quickly jangling the tiny key in her rectangular silver mailbox, she fights the thought away, and even manages to wave to the new tenant from one floor up as he walks out, bicycle. She has her hands full when her phone rings, cutting through the early morning silence, and struggles to pick up on the third ring.

"It better be an emergency, I just got home." She mumbles, balancing the stack of mail and her now lukewarm coffee in her free hand, her keys hanging from her fingers.

Caroline hears Camille hesitate as she calls for the elevator, nearly missing the button in her preoccupation. "It's nothing bad, I think."

"What is it Cami?" She sighs, stepping into the elevator with a frown already settled on her face.

She doesn't quite catch the beginning of Camille's rant as she pushes the button for her floor, but she does manage to tune in before her second in command has a meltdown.

"Liv just got off the phone with her agent, she can't make the interview." Camille finishes.

Caroline lets her head fall against the paneled wall before the elevator dings, "Shit," she curses, feeling the stress of the situation forming yet another kink in her already knotted shoulders.

"I mean the deadline is not for another week," She thinks aloud, "But it would take time to find a replacement interview quite as big for our opening issue."

There's no time to register what Camille is saying because she's right outside her front door. Caroline nestles her phone in the crook of her shoulder as she fumbles with the keys.

She tunes out as she walks into the foyer, discarding her tight blazer and dropping her purse on the couch. She can faintly hear Camille rambling on about how "This is a supermodel we're talking about, we can't lose Tatia Petrova."

"Yes, I know," She mutters dismissively and has nearly made it to the second bathroom where they keep a bottle of ibuprofen, when Camille speaks up.

"Maybe you could ask Tyler to beg his mom to put in a word with one of her high society friends." She suggests like it's pure genius.

Of course, anyone close enough to the couple knows that Caroline Salvatore and Carol Lockwood are not exactly amicable. They butt heads way too often for Caroline to even consider asking a favor of her. And all because she refused to change her last name. As a professional and as the daughter of a feminist cop, she stands proudly by her decision.

Speaking of Tyler, Caroline perks up at hearing him rustling about their spare bedroom. The faint sound of grunting is distracting as she musters what to say to Camille.

"I'm not so sure that would be a good idea…" She trails off, hand turning the doorknob with a salacious smile on her face as she thinks up a way to unwind from all the stress that has just been placed on her shoulders in the matter of five minutes.

She doesn't get to finish the sentence because her phone drops on the floor with a smack and her coffee cup has hit the floor before she can cringe about the horrible brown stain that will never come out of her pristine white carpet. Caroline has now time to even think about Camille's frantic calls for her, asking what happened, and whether or not she is okay. There's no time to focus on anything but the startled face of the new upstairs neighbor, Hayley, sprawled across her bed as Caroline's husband rams into her from behind.

Caroline does not know what exactly comes over her, but in a flash she is blind with rage. She doesn't care that Camille is most likely still on the phone, or that her shrill voice could alert the neighbors. To hell with the neighbors, she thinks, if this had been going on for God knows how long right under all their noses.

She felt like an utter fool.

"You asshole!" She shrieks, before she's reaching over to the table by the door, grabbing the vase and knocking picture frames over.

She aims straight for the pair, who is still shocked and unable to move. The blood is pumping loudly in her ears, and her cheeks are probably puffy, but she doesn't care. Tyler is standing with his dick out, not even bothering to put on some boxers, and he tentatively steps towards her. Yoga Barbie, who at least had the decency to cover herself up with her Egyptian cotton sheets, yelps as the vase barely misses her and shatters on the wooden headboard. Caroline's aim is nowhere near perfect, but she is willing to try again.

"Care would you just listen," Tyler's hand touches her shoulder and she flinches as though it is covered in flesh burning acid.

"Get away from me you pig," She cries, stepping away from him, "Don't touch me!"

Hayley sits silently on the bed watching the entire scene unfold as though she had not played a role in ruining a marriage. Caroline's head is spinning as she processes all this information, and like the flip of a switch her face drains of all color and emotion.

She stares blankly at Tyler and his mistress. Everything is dawning on her all too quickly to even consider the details. How long had this been going on? Clearly Hayley must have known she was in the picture. To think Caroline had bought bagels for her and her roommates. She felt embarrassed at the thought. This whole time she had been so friendly, surely they were making a mockery of her.

"Get out." She says, barely above a whisper, but Hayley hears it loud and clear, and picks her undergarments off the flood, redressing with superhuman speed. She doesn't dare look at Tyler, who at least now managed to pull on a pair of black boxer briefs to cover his indecency.

The brunette woman all but runs out of her sight and she hears the door slam.

Again, Caroline repeats herself, "Get out."

Her voice is low and threatening, but Tyler is too stubborn to realize she's a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

"GET OUT!" She's manic in that moment, yelling furiously and running through the room, smashing everything in sight. There's glass all over the floor from shattered picture frames, old vases his tasteless mother had gifted them, and from what she can tell, her phone.

Caroline moves on to the closet, where she doesn't hesitate to pull articles of clothing from their hangers. He stands too passively as she opens up a window and begins throwing out dress shirts to the bustling street below.

He tries to get her attention again, this time moving to restrain her, but to no avail. "Care what are you doing? Stop it, let me explain."

She dodges him and goes back for more clothes to throw out, but he's blocking the entryway.

"Listen," he implores, and is ignored. Caroline is having none of it.

Her nostrils are flaring and she is gritting her teeth. "Get the fuck out of my way, you bastard."

She knocks into him hard, her shoulder bumping him back a few steps and he falters, unsure of what to do to placate her. Tyler realizes there is no use, as she is almost restless in this situation, acting on impulse to avoid facing the reality of the situation.

"I still love you." He says meekly.

Her eyes widen, as if she is outraged by his audacity. "Love me?" She questions sardonically, "You have a funny way of showing it."

She's got the last of his clothes in her hands and he watches helpless as thousands of dollars literally fly out the window.

"Please," He begs; one last, weak attempt.

Caroline shuts her eyes and breathes deeply, knowing that if she doesn't try to calm down her instincts might kick in and she might just actually murder him. She goes about like this for a good thirty seconds before facing him again with another blank stare.

There's nothing left to be said, it's clear there's no going back from this. There is nothing to repair here. "Leave."

Tyler admits defeat, grabbing his shirt and dress pants from the floor. He walks away with one final stubborn glare in her direction, like she could be the one to blame. He doesn't say anything though, and Caroline listens as his footsteps fade away with a slam of the door that rattles the entire apartment and sounds all too final.

And then it is eerily quiet, and Caroline is left all alone.

* * *

There is no point in cleaning up the glass, she decides. Caroline stares at her shattered phone on the floor. The screen lights up every thirty seconds, with frantic calls and voicemails from Camille, no doubt.

She slumps against the wall in defeat, staring at the aftermath. Not one of her best mornings. The coffee stain has set in the carpet by now, and the apartment is unbearably still.

The house phone breaks the silence, startling her. It's a rare day that the phone rings. Caroline figures it could be Camille, or Liv, but she cannot bring herself to answer, she feels humiliated. Surely Cami has rambled about it to everyone else out of worry. She lets it go to voicemail.

Deciding that she's tired of moping around, she stands. Her wallowing lasted a whole twenty minutes. Of course she is devastated, at least she's trying to convince herself she is, but she is her mother's daughter after all. Yes, she can keep a smile on her face without it faltering for a moment, but she is also incredibly stoic when it comes to displaying heartbreak. Being endlessly disappointed by ventures of the heart hardens you a little bit.

Her back cracks as she stands from her spot against her bedroom wall. She examines the wreckage, regretting making such a mess, but she had a point to make after all.

It's exactly as she's searching for a broom and dustpan that the phone rings, again. Caroline wants to let it go to voicemail, she doesn't wish to speak to anybody for at least a week, lest they confront her about what happened, or worse, try to comfort her. Then she considers who could be calling with such persistence, because surely even Camille would get the hint after twenty-seven dodged calls.

On the off chance that it is Isobel, her publisher, Caroline answers the phone.

"Hello?" She says, with the phone between her shoulder and her ear. She is leaning into the crowded closet by the kitchen looking for something to sweep her mess with.

The caller is silent for a moment before they speak up, "Care..."

It's low and tentative, but Caroline would recognize that voice anywhere. Her mom sounds tired, but definitely happier than the last time they saw each other, exactly three years ago when they had argued about her getting engaged so young.

Now she knows it was a wise warning. One that she'd ignored, but she would never admit to anyone she could be wrong, especially not Elizabeth Forbes of all people.

"Mom?" Caroline tries to hide the hurt in her voice, because she refuses to face the fact her marriage is in shambles, and she does not want to hear her mother tell her the infamous ' _I told you so.'_

Liz is quietly arguing with someone in the background and Caroline doesn't want to think about other people she's cut off, but her mom quiets down soon enough, "Have you checked your mail?"

"No." Caroline looks to the stack of mail sitting on the couch next to her purse. She walks over with burning curiosity now that her mom has brought it up.

There is a sigh from Liz and more mumbled back and forth, "We were hoping you'd seen it, the caterer needs an RSVP by Thursday, and at this rate it won't get back in time."

She's confused, shuffling through differently sized envelopes and papers, mostly bills and a couple of magazine subscriptions and takeout menus. "RSVP, what are you…"

Her eyes widen though, and she doesn't get to finish that sentence. With a gasp, she picks up the ivory envelope with the curly font on the front of it. She doesn't know what to think of it, so she opens it. Liz seems to understand the stunned silence.

Caroline traces her fingers gently over the card stock, running her index finger over the delicate lace trim of the invitation. Her own words fail her.

"Stefan is getting married?" It feels almost ironic saying it out loud. Here she is, unsure where her and Tyler stand, but she knows it can't be good. And her brother is moving on to the next phase of his life. _Rebekah Claire Mikaelson._ It saddens her to have never heard the name before.

"We were shocked too, but his fiancée, she is just so nice." Liz sounds genuinely happy; there is no hint of the upset and the disappointment she felt when Caroline had said she was getting married.

She tries to sound happy, she really does, but the bitterness is somewhat obvious, "Stefan never mentioned anything about a girl."

Liz holds back the comment Caroline knows deep down but doesn't want to hear. The last time she spoke to him was last November. An email wishing him happy birthday.

"So are you coming or not?" Liz asks, and Caroline wants to say no, if there is one thing she does not want, it's to return to Mystic Falls with her tail between her legs. She still needs time to lick her wounds in private. Small towns were anything but.

"I don't know…" There is a suitcase in her now empty closet that has not been used since she returned from her honeymoon. It's been three years.

The desperation is evident in Liz's voice, "Please," she begs, "For Stefan."

Caroline doesn't need to be told twice, the guilt is too overbearing to ignore, and before she can argue with the tiny voice inside her head, she's getting out the suitcase.

* * *

The airport is not her scene she's decided. But then again Caroline is not so well traveled. She's only been in an airport twice in her life. There was the family trip to Disney World when she was seven, and her honeymoon. She hadn't even flown to New York for college.

Nerves don't usually affect her, but she feels a little anxious about flying. The security checkpoint is a breeze and she even makes it to the terminal seating area in time to reconsider whether she should go or not.

She's already confirmed with her mom that she is going, and Liz values honesty above everything.

The airplanes speed down the tarmac and glide into the air, some of them are coming as others leave. Caroline tries her best to be patient for her flight to start boarding, and even gives into buying an overpriced magazine from the kiosk by the restaurants to calm her antsy jitters.

Caroline did not think she would be doing this, going back home. _Home._ She is not sure if Mystic Falls is home anymore, if the boarding house where she crawled and walked and spoke her first words is her definition of home anymore, even if her height is marked in pen on the kitchen wall.

It's strange, the way she left things. She knows it won't be easy coming back but she is a woman of her word, and besides, Stefan needs her. Hell, she doubts Damon misses her much, but she wonders what he has been up to, and whether he has stayed out of trouble.

By the time the flight is supposed to board she has finished her magazine and is tapping her foot impatiently on the carpeted ground. Her hands are shaking.

First class is called first and she rushes out of her seat, grabbing her boarding pass in her hand, and dragging her carry on luggage. There is no telling how long she will be back in Mystic Falls, though she hopes to get the hell out of dodge as soon as the wedding weekend is over.

The stewardess in charge of boarding scans her boarding pass and she's heading through the claustrophobic tunnel and into the air vessel, leaving New York and Tyler and his mistress behind her.

Once she is on the plane and her luggage stored in the overhead compartment she checks her phone. A flight attendant passes her by, quickly reminding her that she must turn it off once the plane takes off, and she offers a glass of champagne Caroline cannot bring herself to pass up on the offer.

Her phone is fine other than the damaged screen, but she had no time to replace it with all the last minute flight arrangements and packing that needed to be done.

She can't help but roll her eyes at the hundred messages Camille has left, not to mention the long voicemails. Caroline taps the little green messaging icon to type out a reply: _Cannot talk. Family emergency. Email Isobel the final draft and send me a copy once it is published. I trust you will get it done._

Caroline is aware that Camille knows there is a lot more to it than just a family emergency, but she hopes her second in command will accept the excuse and do as she asks. It is so unlike her to dish off her work to her employees, everyone who knows the five-foot seven blonde is aware she is a bit of a control freak. Tyler used to call her neurotic.

Deciding to push Tyler out of her thoughts, she allows herself to relax against the spacious first class seat just as the flight attendant brings her the glass of champagne and a tiny cocktail napkin.

It seems as though the flight back will be a silent one, as the seat next to her is empty, but as always Caroline speaks too soon. A brunette man in a freshly ironed suit sidles into the narrow isle, storing his carry on in the overhead compartment before taking a seat beside her. With a commanding finger he flags down the air stewardess.

At least she has the window seat.

For a moment she considers asking for an eye mask or a blanket to sleep the short flight back to the Richmond airport, but the brunette man turns to her all too suddenly, prompting a conversation.

"You would not mind to open the blind?" He sounds proper and polite and she notes the hint of an accent she cannot yet place, "It feels a little stuffy in here." He moves to loosen his tie a bit and unbutton his suit jacket. He looks like an Armani type of man.

"Sure," she studies his face briefly and decides he is handsome. Usually she would feel guilty about making such an observation, but she figures she's been scorned enough to have earned the right.

He too studies her for a brief moment, pursing his lips, "You seem familiar."

"Lot of blondes in New York," she quips jokingly, smiling at this peculiar stranger. "Where are you headed?"

He has to think of the answer for a moment, as though he is recalling a name. "Mystic Falls."

Caroline's smile brightens, "Really? So am I."

The brunette man cracks a smile, "Interesting. I'm attending a wedding, you?"

Again, her eyes widen, "Me too, what are the chances?"

The chances aren't necessarily unlikely. Mystic Falls was a rather popular destination for weddings. While it had a small population, it had the charming characteristics of a Southern town, and brides from all over Virginia and the rest of the East Coast were enchanted by the antebellum houses. They made the perfect venue.

"Perhaps we will run into each other there." He finally says.

Caroline is conversational, but she has never been one for small talk, let alone on airplanes or supermarket lines. It usually unnerved her, but she finds herself opening up to this stranger, and she reckons the flight won't be so bad after all.

"Maybe we will. Have you ever been?" She asks.

"I'm afraid not," He gets comfortable in the seat, turning towards her and removing his suit jacket. "First time."

She grins, "I can show you. I'm Caroline, by the way."

As any proper man of his composure would, he sticks out her hand for her to shake, "Elijah. Pleasure to meet you. Have you been before?"

Caroline wonders how to explain the situation. Yes, she had been born and raised and now she was the black sheep of the family returning to her herd. She realizes that might be too forward and intimate of a conversation opener, so she settles on a simple answer. The one she has been dodging all mid-morning to admit to herself. The solution to her problems.

For the first time that day she calls Mystic Falls by what it truly is.

"I have," she concedes, "That's my home."


	2. Two: The Return

**A/N:** I would like to start out by thanking the people who have read and commented so far. I have been contemplating putting this idea to paper (well, keyboard would be more accurate) for awhile now. Also, I would like to point out that my attitudes towards certain characters in this fictional story do not necessarily resemble my opinions of them in real life (Hayley, for example, who I do not hate. I would not like for my depiction of her to be taken as an overused trope. This will have an impact on future chapters).

As for this chapter, it is a little longer, although I edited myself since I do not have a beta (I deeply apologize if I glazed over any mistakes).

Thank you so so much for reading, and I hope you will like it and review. **Disclaimer-** _I do not own any of the characters written in this story, only the narratives are my original work._

* * *

It is a fateful Tuesday in May when Klaus Mikaelson bows his head in prayer for the first time in eleven years. He's pretending to do so more than anything, but he's in a church, and that in itself is a feat anyone should be proud of influencing in the slightest.

Only Rebekah could drag him out to the armpit of civilization and get away with it. Klaus feels uncomfortable sitting in the third pew, but he isn't sure what else there is to do as he waits for his baby sister. He remembers Bekah calling him the day before with the request. Her fiancé, Stefan Salvatore, who he has yet to meet, cannot make it for the beginning of the session.

Speaking of his sister, he lifts his head and looks over his shoulder to see her hanging up her cellphone. Her heels click against the marble floor of the nave, and she places a hand on his shoulder.

"Nik," She's smiling, and he can't recall the last time she looked so radiant. "Get up and give me a hug!"

His littlest sister was perhaps the most annoying growing up. She had been a pest, insisting on playing with wooden swords like the boys, and attached herself to his own hip early on. But they have always had a close bond, and who is he to deny her request that he be here for her pre-marital counseling with the priest? Klaus was willing, albeit initially grumpy, to bump his flight from Chicago two hours to accommodate her plans.

"Little Sister." Klaus wraps his arms around her and she only tightens her grip on him, eliciting a chuckle from him.

A middle-aged man standing crossing clears his throat, and Rebekah sheepishly breaks apart from him. "Ms. Mikaelson?"

The young blonde eagerly nods, and drags Klaus as she hurriedly follows the priest to the vestry. Neither of them are regular parishioners of this church, and he is certain his father, who he hasn't yet seen since arriving, has a snide comment about it. However, this is the podunk town where Stefan Salvatore grew up, and so this small chapel is perfectly beautiful in Rebekah's eyes.

He admires her attitude about it. She is going to need it with a family like theirs.

They take a seat on two leather chairs set across from a messily arranged desk. The priest smiles and shakes their hands before taking a seat. He is no Kieran O'Connell, who married their parents, who baptized each and every one of them, and who conducted his previous three siblings' weddings, but he is friendly at the very least.

"Good morning, I'm Father Saltzman." He slides a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose and sinks into his seat. "You must be Rebekah and Stefan."

His sister laughs, correcting the man on the minor mistake, "Actually, this is my brother Nik, though Stefan should be here shortly."

She makes a point of checking her wristwatch, and smiles apologetically. As if strategically planned, a knock sounds on the door, and a sheepish Stefan allows himself into the quaint office, voicing his apologies.

Klaus immediately gives him a once over. _So this is the bloke his sister settled for?_ He attributes no one being perfect enough for Bekah in his eyes to the overly protective big brother instincts.

"I apologize," He says, "I had an early patient." Klaus purses his lips, assessing the man, and he figures he will do for now.

"Please take a seat," Father Saltzman gestures to a chair perched against a small table, and Stefan drags it over, sitting right between him and his sister. "Let's get started."

Klaus cannot be bothered to listen in to the boring details of the couple's counseling, but he knows Rebekah would scold him if he were to get up and leave now that the Father is in the middle of discussing the road to marriage. Besides, as embarrassing and emasculating as it is, Rebekah and her small yellow Beatle rental car are his ride, and even if he had a set of wheels he doesn't know the last thing about this one pony town.

He is staring out the window absentmindedly, inspired by the colorful apple tree that grows in the side courtyard, when Rebekah calls his name.

"Nik, he was asking you a question." Her pointed glare does not go unnoticed.

"Excuse me," he reddens slightly, "could you repeat that?"

Father Saltzman patiently smiles, reiterating, "Will you be the best man?"

Stefan, who has until now been rather quiet and distracted looks up with a puzzled look on his face. He speaks up before Rebekah can answer for either of them.

"I don't think so," He shakes his head, confused as why it should even come up.

"Nonsense Nik, how are you not going to be the best man?" He grows sympathy for Stefan with every second that passes. He cannot remember the last time his petulant sister didn't get her unreasonable way.

 _Maybe because I barely know the groom…_ He says inwardly, but knows better than to be smart mouthed with Rebekah.

Stefan scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure how to go about dealing with Rebekah, though Klaus figures if he put a ring on it, there must be an inkling of an instinct telling the man what to do.

"I told you," He mutters more to her than anybody else in the room, "I want my twin to be my best man."

Klaus is intrigued, wondering about Stefan's family life. The most he had ever gotten out of Rebekah—the most _anyone_ had gotten out of her—was that her fiancé was from a small Virginian town, Mystic Falls, and that they were getting married in June. She had nearly sent Esther and Mikael to the grave. To think a man had gone without their strict father vetting him first, it was unheard of, but it was happening. They would have to adapt.

He can't exactly hear as Rebekah harshly whispers, beginning to get upset when it becomes apparent her way is even up for debate. "When was the last time you two even spoke?" He makes out from their quiet conversation.

Father Saltzman exchanges a look with him, raising his eyebrows before clearing his throat to intervene. "Alright, how about we leave that for the next session." He flips through a little brown journal in search of a way to dissipate the tension.

Rebekah visibly calms in her seat, but Klaus knows better than to believe his sister would just drop it so casually. She is not one to go out without a fight—fair or not.

"So, pre-marital sex…" "Father Saltzman tries, straight faced as ever, "What are our thoughts on that?"

Stefan tenses and Klaus pities the poor man for a moment before he pushes back his seat with an ugly screech. He excuses himself momentarily, needing to desperately get out of this situation. There is no way he is about to discuss his sister's sex life with a priest, no matter how serious either one of them consider it.

He maneuvers through the narrow corridors of the church, and he hastily stops before the vestibule to dip his fingers in some holy water. It even feels sacrilegious but Klaus doesn't overthink it, because it is becoming stiflingly hot in the chapel and there is a cigarette in his pocket calling his name.

* * *

Caroline grips the armrests of her seat tightly as the airplane descends. She has never had a problem before; yet she figures her lack of flying experience warrant her to be cautious. Elijah, she figured out, is to make a temporary stop in Richmond, where he has business to attend to, before he is to make the drive to Mystic Falls.

"Perhaps you can show me around once I arrive?" He is charming and polite, and she cannot turn down his request, although she's already spotted a lack of tan in the shape of a narrow band on his left hand ring finger.

She calms before labeling herself as paranoid, writing off the man's friendliness towards her simple manners. And good ones, too. He is a proper gentleman and offers to help her with her overhead carry on. Caroline smiles, declining his offer.

There is no way she is getting off this plane until the flight attendant with the broad shoulders himself, comes and wrests her behind from the seat. Until then, she figures she can use some more peace and calm. Gathering her thoughts has never been more important.

After five minutes pass, she can tell that the post-flight clapping buzz has faded, and the stewardesses are looking annoyed at her for making this longer and harder than it has to be.

With two stubborn pulls, she has her carry-on luggage in tow, and she is walking the narrow crossway to the terminal; following the signs directing her to baggage claim. She never has been one to pack light.

The airport in Richmond is big, and she could easily get lost in the swarm of people making layovers, or arriving to their final destination. There masses at baggage claim are unforgiving and she gets elbowed and pushed aside, by several rude tourists.

Four incoming flights are dispatching suitcases from the same conveyor belt, and she waits rather impatiently until she sees her bright yellow suitcase. Rather hard to miss.

Once she is outside by the curbside check-in, testing her luck with a cab, she decides to turn on her phone. There are not many times when one could say Caroline Salvatore is disconnected from the world. If anything, she is very much so involved. But she feels anxious as an influx of messages and voice calls she missed while on the flight, begin to pour into their respective inboxes with sequential vibrating sounds.

There is no point in reading the messages now, basically in the middle of the street, and she can't promise she will make an effort of getting to them later.

A cabbie honks in her general direction, lowers the window and peers out curiously at her. He has an accent and she is intrigued, "Hey blondie, where to?"

"Mystic Falls." She is hopeful that he will be willing to drive the two and a half hour drive to her hometown.

The cabbie gets out of the car to assist her with her heavy luggage, and Caroline decides to relax. "Hop in."

Releasing a breath she is sure has been pent up since last week when she received her new deadline, Caroline feels her body drain of the negative energy and worries that clouded her mind in New York. Of course, the trip back gives her ample time to worry about the new negative energies and drama that will ultimately surround her in Mystic Falls, but Caroline decides to push that to the very back of her mind.

Right now, her only focus is resting her head on the uncomfortable windowpane and attempting to get some shuteye throughout the drive back.

* * *

Rebekah's knuckles are white the way she clutches the steering wheel. Klaus is certain she is going to break a nail, or worse, pop a vein in her neck the way she is silently seething. Any kindness that had inhabited her body when she met Father Saltzman is now long gone.

"The nerve of that man." She bitterly mutters to herself, pressing down on the gas.

Klaus is unsure whether to laugh or hold harder onto the passenger seat. Stefan is back at the hospital, tending to the sick and needy, and he thinks he might be sick the way Rebekah is accelerating down the empty streets.

He knows not to bring up the subject, judging by the way Rebekah stormed out of Fell's Church with her high heels digging holes in the cement courtyard. He had barely gotten through half of his cigarette.

Now, he chuckles amusedly under his breath, lest his sister hear him and think she is being mocked. She is, but Klaus isn't willing to play with fire.

From what he knows, Rebekah has been staying with Stefan's family. Apparently, they had a boarding house. Not bad for small towners. He hasn't yet dropped off his stuff at the house, mostly due to Rebekah's insistence in the morning.

"So, is it always this hot?" Klaus tries, hoping that if he deflects the conversation subtly to a safer subject Rebekah will ease up.

No such luck. "Shut it Nik!"

Soon enough, the car pulls up to a long driveway, and a long, brown, German-style house comes into view. Klaus figures it would be more scenic if it didn't blend into the large trees.

From his spot in the passenger seat he feels curious eyes on him, and a blind closes abruptly as he redirects his attention to one of the larger windows on the main level of the house.

His sister is silent, and she walks quickly into the house without a word. It puzzles him what exactly could have been said in the twelve minutes he was gone that cut the meeting short and left Rebekah in such a bratty mood.

It seems the Salvatores have become accustomed to his sister's characteristic Mikaelson temper, because the door is left open and no one flinches as she storms right up the stairs and slams a door. Klaus feels weird walking in without knocking, but his sister is undisposed to properly introducing him to her in-laws.

Immediately as he enters, a middle-aged blonde woman with the warmest smile he has ever seen comes bounding out of the shadows of the dark living room, and uncertainly sticks her hand out.

"You must be…" He smirks, as she has to mull it over a moment, him being one of five boys. He can't really blame her. "Niklaus? I'm Liz Forbes."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, admiring the way she gets it spot on. "That would be me," he grins, returning her handshake, "Pleasure to meet you."

A raven-haired man walks past him unassumingly, rolling his eyes as he goes. Liz gives him a trenchant glare, her lips drawn into a tight line. "Excuse my son's manners, Damon!"

Damon, he assumes, halts for a moment, contemplating whether to turn around or continue. "Mom…" He lilts, a teasing tone to his voice. Klaus feels uneasy as his big, icy blue eyes give him a once over.

"Damon, go get Klaus's bags from the trunk." There's another eye roll there, and he can sense a snarky comment just dying to come out.

This man has a horrible attitude, and Klaus can't help but think how already he has struck a nerve, not that he'd say anything. "What am I, the help?" Damon asks indignantly, "Barbie Bitch can't even take care of her own damn brother?"

He's outside with the slam of a door. Klaus thinks Liz's eyes might fall out with how hard she is glowering at her son. She looks absolutely red in the face with embarrassment.

"You'll have to excuse him," She apologizes on his behalf, "He is…" She can't bring herself to even finish the sentence, but Klaus supposes he can understand, his sister can be a little high maintenance.

He brushes it off with the casual wave of a hand, "It's fine, water under the bridge." He smiles to hide how uncomfortable he really feels, enveloped by terse silence and hostility. And he's yet to meet Stefan's father. Lucky Rebekah who gets to deal with them.

Klaus wonders where his room is, and whether he'll have to share with his brothers once they arrive from their respective destinations. But he also doesn't want to come off as rude. He is about to make some trivial comment about the décor when a door slams in the driveway.

His mind is distracted for a moment, and he trails his eyes to a demure figure walking up the driveway. Though not as tall as Damon, and obviously more feminine, the striking raven hair and icy blue eyes stand out.

He is confused as keys jingle in the door. He hears Damon complaining in the foyer, and his luggage makes it to the foot of the stairs, his sister's soon-to-be brother in law disappearing up them.

Liz smiles as she has been doing for the past five minutes he's been in the living room, and Klaus watches in confusion as a sterner woman comes up to him, offering her hand to shake.

"Hi, I'm Lily Salvatore," Her smile is definitely more forced than Liz's, "Stefan's mother."

And it takes everything in him to not burst out laughing at the entire situation.

When they had been kids, their parents had taken them to church every Thursday and Sunday. It was normal growing up to go straight to CCD after regular day school, and even those classes were at a private, Roman Catholic institution.

Mikael, their father, is a rather stern man. He believes in morals and religious values being the backbone of good character. Of course now one of his precious daughters is engaging in pre-marital sex, his second to youngest son is always caught up in all kinds of drunken debauchery. And then there's him, Niklaus who Mikael always has a bone to pick with, and he's sure it's because he walked out on Henrik's baptism when he was sixteen and damned it all to Hell.

Esther is too much of a righteous bitch to say anything aloud, as she fears it will look bad, but all the kids know she pretends to pray for them to feel better about herself.

And now here is Rebekah, Esther's favorite, about to take on the namesake of a family of liberal—lesbians, at that. Oh, Klaus can just see her hammering down the final nails on Mikael's coffin.

He focuses on something else for the meanwhile, and stays quiet as he listens to Liz Forbes talk about cocktail napkins as they walk to the kitchen. As an artist he is very aware that periwinkle and lavender are starkly different shades, but as a man, he could not care less.

Lily Salvatore is not a pleasant woman, and she had excused herself not a second after shaking his hand. Thankfully, her equally unpleasant son Damon had followed suit. Liz, he can tell, is thankful no big deal was made over the L word.

So now he sits discussing Rebekah's meticulously detailed decorations for the sit down dinner with a woman who he feels is just as uninterested as he is. Oh how he loves awkward small talk.

Klaus feels relief when he hears his sister's heels click as she floats down the stairs. She seems more composed now than before, and eases a tentative smile onto her face, taking a seat beside Liz at the kitchen table.

"I think the periwinkle is nicer, don't you?" Rebekah smiles, and Klaus watches as the two interact. Liz grins with a nurturing affection that is unknown to him, the same kind that had been absent throughout most of his childhood, save for the few moments his own mother was not heavily intoxicated or pretending to care.

His heart warms as Rebekah rests her head on Liz's shoulder. He can see clearly what is so endearing about Stefan to her, even if the other half of his family seems to have been dragged to Earth from the most uncultured, ill-mannered corner of civilization.

Liz stands up once the moment passes, leaving his sister to sit across from him with her hands on her lap. Rebekah does not need to say anything. They are accustomed to their outbursts, and quite forgiving about it.

The older blonde woman bounces around the kitchen though, leaving the room light and comfortably quiet. He does not feel like small talk with his sister, as he fears it will entail more wedding talk he cares not for. If he could skip a conversation on seating arrangements and napkin holders he figures he will live.

Different cherry wood cupboards open and slam shut and he observes Stefan's mom while she gathers ingredients.

He breaks the silence, "Rebekah, love, will you show me to my room?"

Rebekah looks to Liz, who wipes her hands on her jeans, her eyebrows raised as though she has just remembered something. She might forget the pan she just now placed over open flame, he thinks, if she continues fidgeting.

"Oh my goodness," she exclaims, looking rather sorry, "I completely forgot, the two guest bedrooms are in repair, Lily decided before we knew the wedding date…" She rambles and Klaus stares amused as she bounces from one corner of the kitchen to other deciding what to do in this situation.

His sister speaks up, assuring Liz all is well, "It's fine, really, Nik can rent a room in town."

Liz shakes her head as if it is the most absurd thing she has ever heard. "Nonsense," her tone holds determination, "He can stay in Damon's room."

Klaus tenses up at that, wondering how someone as astute as Liz seems to be could miss the fact that her insufferable son would never put up with it. Although he is the only Mikaelson sibling staying at the Boarding house until the wedding—the rest all flying in for the rehearsal dinner a week and a half from now—he has a borderline supernatural inkling that Damon Salvatore shares animosity towards his sister, and surely thinks of this as imposing.

As if on cue, Damon comes zooming through the kitchen archway, a sense of hearing almost as supernatural. "No way!" He argues, "No way am I sharing my room with anyone, I don't care how whipped Stefan is."

There is a sigh from Liz and a scoff from Rebekah. Klaus doesn't know whether to laugh at how utterly intolerable this man gets by the minute, or scowl at him.

"Don't mind him, he has the manners of a wild boar." Rebekah sneers almost like she can read his thoughts, "We'll find you somewhere to stay."

With what seems to be a sliver of niceness antithetical to the outright snarky attitude he has witnessed, Damon offers a solution, "Why doesn't he just stay in Care Bear's room?"

He says this with the smuggest tone of voice, patting himself on the back for having thought of it while the rest of them struggled for a fix, but Liz stiffens and Klaus smirks at the nickname. Perhaps they had a grandchild Rebekah had failed to mention.

"No, she's coming." Liz says with a final voice, "Klaus is staying with you."

For a moment it almost seems Damon might stomp on the ground and whine like a petulant child—it wouldn't be too far off—but he fights back the order as maturely and adamantly as he can. "Yeah and she told you?" His voice is dripping with sarcasm and if he wasn't just a stranger to him, Klaus might say hurt. "When's the last time she's ever been home."

So it's a she then.

"I called her." Liz says, which has Damon taken aback, and even Rebekah is surprised from where she stands. Klaus can only muster confusion. "She is coming to the wedding."

"Don't be delusional. I already said he isn't rooming with me." A nasty scoff comes from Damon, who scowls at his mom resolutely. Would Klaus really be so bad a roommate for a week or two? The lack of politeness and willingness to accommodate is truly astounding.

The back door slams shut with a jolt, Damon's definitive and final "No." echoing in the kitchen as he walks through the wooded backyard area. They all revel in the stunned silence.

Liz looks upset at what he has said, and Klaus momentarily wonders why it is so important that this Care Bear—he is assuming their as a proper identity to the moniker—comes back.

Just at that moment, Lily walks into the awkwardly quiet kitchen, seeming to have heard it all from wherever she had disappeared to.

Her face is firm and her eyes are cold, and he can see Liz's heart break as she backs Damon up. "He's right." She spares a glance in Klaus's direction, "He can stay in Caroline's room."

 _Care bear…Caroline._ So that is the mysterious person that had been mentioned at least ten times in the past five minutes. _It makes sense._ His intrigue with Rebekah's in laws only increases.

Klaus is ready to go get his luggage from the foyer and follow Liz up the stairs, but he falters for a moment when he sees her shoulders sag, sulking as Lily bitterly mutters what it seems they have been skirting around.

" _It's not like she's coming back anyway."_

* * *

Caroline startles awake, her head knocking against the window as the cab comes to a screeching halt. The impact is enough to rattle her brain, and she momentarily forgets where she is. In the back of a cab in what is certainly not New York, but Mystic Falls.

Her body feels unnaturally cold. She would recognize the Wickery Bridge anywhere.

"Sorry, doll." The accented cabbie breaks her from her reverie, mustering an apologetic smile through the rearview mirror.

She manages a smile, nodding to signal she's okay. However, she is confused. This is not the address she gave him, and she feels unnerved as the cab sits motionless over the rickety old bridge on the outside of town.

"I don't quite know where to go from here," He says, answering her questions, "The road diverges over there." The dark haired man points to where trees begin to cluster behind the white oak bridge sign.

Caroline sits up straighter in the backseat, clearing her throat to shake the rasp, "Take a left," she says, filled with nervous anticipation and a little bit of dread, "if you take a right it'll lead you straight to the falls."

She whispers the last half of that more to herself than anything. It amazes her how she still remembers everything, like she hasn't been living a one hour airplane ride away for the past few years. Of course, Caroline knows better than to fool herself will this silly though. Mystic Falls is no longer the town she left behind.

Things are different now, and no matter how hard she tries to pretend that the same shell of a town hasn't been fazed by her departure, she knows the people have internal scars she had a role in creating.

The cabbie nods obligingly, and mindlessly drums on the steering wheel as he takes the upcoming turn. There is a smaller fork in the road right ahead, she wants to say, and it leads to her house, but she holds back.

"A penny for your thoughts?" He hasn't spoken to her all ride, but then again she was asleep for most of the car's journey. Oh, God. Had she drooled?

His voice is lighthearted, and Caroline tries to match that, but it's hard to ignore the way her fingers cling to the backseat like she's afraid to let go, or else she'll have to suffer seeing her family. She is pensive for a moment, and he gives her a weird look through the mirror.

"Something looks like it's eating you up inside." He couldn't have described it more perfectly, for that's exactly how she feels but again she refrains from saying anything.

It isn't that she's at a loss for words, but Caroline doesn't know how to phrase it, where to even begin. She settles for a meek, "I guess."

A laugh breaks her composure, "Oh come on love, there's got to be more to that story."

Usually, she would be annoyed at such intrusive behavior. But something about this cab driver makes her want to spill her secrets. Caroline thinks that maybe if she lays out all the baggage she carries, it can stay in the car and she can get out and walk the rest of the way like nothing ever happened. Like it can't affect her anymore.

"It's a long story." She doesn't know if she has time to say it all in the seven minutes left of the car ride.

"Tell you what," the driver senses her discomfort and eases the tension, "We'll have a normal conversation and try to forget all about it. Alright?"

Caroline smiles, deciding that it is in fact, too long of a story to tell. She'll have to keep carrying it with her, she supposes. "Okay."

"I'll start." He gives a playful smirk, "I'm Enzo, and you?"

She grins at his nonchalant tone, deciding she appreciates his kind gesture. "I'm Caroline."

They spend the next six minutes and thirteen seconds of the way talking about trivial things, like how the weather is about to get sticky and gross with summer fast approaching, and how she can appreciate a nice ballet. He tells her how he has a drinking buddy he met in Williamsburg that was coincidentally from Mystic Falls. She counters with a story about how in her prime, she could drink him and his buddy under the table.

He laughs and she finds herself easing up, even if it isn't genuine happiness or comfort. In the moment though, she feels brave enough to walk into her house.

Before she realizes, Enzo pulls up to her long driveway, letting out a whistle in surprise. "Nice place," He says, and she giggles at his reaction.

"Thanks," it stings a bit to follow up with, "It isn't mine." _It once was though._ She may not consider it her own now, but she'd been princess of this castle for a good eighteen years.

Enzo helps her with her luggage, and jokingly squeezes her into an obnoxiously tight hug when she tips him generously. He slides a card with his number into her hand, making Caroline promise that she'll call if she needs him.

"Remember, gorgeous," He says, getting into the driver's seat, "I'm a ring a way."

She waves goodbye with a wide smile, shouting, "I will." as he approaches the end of the driveway. _There is no turning back now,_ she realizes, once he is out of sight and out of earshot. She can phone him, but she chooses not to. It's time to face her problems head on.

Caroline coaches herself through a few deep breaths before she can turn around and walk towards the door. The wheels of her bright yellow suitcase squeak as she drags them across the paved brick entryway, and she wonders if the door is open or if the spare key her mom used to keep inside the fake rock still resides there.

To her relief, the door is open, and she steps into a quiet foyer. Any other day a few years ago, and the house would have been bustling life. Had she still been fifteen Stefan and the football team would be having burgers in the yard, her pompoms would be strewn across the table by the door, and Damon would be arguing with Liz about extending his curfew. " _Mom I'm turning nineteen, this is ridiculous."_ and of course, he was known for his infamous, " _You're ruining my life."_

Liz would shake her head and mutter something or other about how he was still living under her roof and so he had to follow her rules. Lily would agree and back her up on it, a unified and impenetrable parenting front. Of course when Liz isn't looking, Lily would hand Damon the keys to her car so he could go see Elena.

 _Elena._ She doesn't allow herself to dwell on the name more than necessary. She can't allow herself. The picture of the past quickly fades away, and with it, it takes their carefree attitudes and genuine laughter. They are all bitter assholes now, even Liz, who may not be an asshole, but who forgets to mask her bitterness sometimes.

And so Caroline steps back into the present, becoming alert when she hears faint voices from coming from the kitchen. She wants to drop her bags off in her room, but she refrains from doing so, deciding there is no better moment to face her family. She hears two accented voices, and her mother's laugh.

The kitchen smells like spices, and it reminds her of the chili she and her mom would prepare for the Mystic Falls Founder's Parade luncheon every year. Caroline would always help in the kitchen, and the day of the event, she would parade in one of the floats and her mom would pass out the chili. They were quite a pair.

Another blonde is seated at the table, but doesn't notice her. Both her mom and a man she's never seen before have their backs turned towards her.

Caroline clears her throat, causing the room to go silent instantly. Liz looks like she has seen a ghost, and the blonde looks surprised more than anything. She must be her brother's fiancée. The man turns slowly, but he seems more confused than the rest of them. She frankly has no idea who he may be, though the resemblance indicates he might be the fiancée—Rebekah's—family.

Liz is spluttering like a fish out of water, and Caroline can't even conjure up the thought of anyone else's reactions to her return. Her mom stands frozen in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do for a second.

She snaps out of it though, because in the blink of an eye she is in front of Caroline, extending her arms and enveloping her into a bone-crushing hug that leaves her gasping for air almost.

"My baby." She hears Liz exclaim, and a small smile etches its way onto her face.

Caroline sighs, melting into her mother's hug, and she realizes in that moment just how much she needs it. Her day has been a whirlwind.

After what feels like an eternity, Liz unwraps herself from her, smiling so brightly that she feels guilty for being away so long. She can tell her mom wants to offer food immediately, but instead Liz redirects Caroline's attention to the other two individuals awkwardly watching them reunite.

"Oh where are my manners?" Liz laughs, her voice shaky from the impact of the surprise, "This is Stefan's fiancée, Rebekah."

The woman seems to be younger than her, and she has a forced smile on her face. Caroline doesn't know how to greet her, really. It's not like she has been a constant in Stefan's life the past couple of years, and it'll feel fake to regard Rebekah as anything but a stranger. She can tell the thin blonde shares those sentiments. The girl probably feels resentment towards her if Stefan does, though she hopes she wants her sister in law to like her.

"Nice to meet you." Rebekah says, shaking her hand, as a hug would be far too uncomfortable for the both of them.

"Pleasure." Caroline manages a polite smile, before her mother is moving on to the other guest at the table.

She focuses on him for the first time, having rushed over to her mother when she walked in earlier. Now that she sees him clearly she feels her breath catch in her throat. He is beautiful, with piercing blue eyes, and high cheekbones, and broad shoulders contained in a blood red, cotton Henley. Caroline has to fight the urge to gawk at him.

Her mother's voice sounds distant as she introduces them. "This is Rebekah's older brother, Niklaus."

Caroline is barely listening, and her expression is unreadable, though she realizes she might be staring. He comes up to her, a knowing smirk on his face as though he knows her, and heart stutters.

He sticks out his hand for her to shake, and Caroline feels entranced by the way he moves with such confident swagger and poise. She has to brace herself when he speaks.

"Niklaus is the name my father gave me," He smiles warmly, but it reads danger, she can sense it from a mile away. "Please, call me Klaus."


End file.
